


have not i the courage

by VerdantMoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Back of the neck Kiss, Background Relationships, Domestic Avengers, Established Sam/Bucky, Hero Complex, Misplaced Guilt, Post-Mission, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Bucky just squeezes him tighter. “Why do you do this?”That makes Sam pause. “Do what?”“Save someone,” Bucky says with a jaw cracking yawn, “Then beat the shit outta yourself over it.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Kudos: 72
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	have not i the courage

Tony lands the quinjet in the compound and the Avengers slowly trudge into the common space, ready to retreat to their own rooms. Bucky passes Sam, still buckled in his set, and drops a sleepy kiss roughly in the area of his nose and cheek. 

“G’night,” Bucky grunts out. At least, that's what Sam  _ thinks _ the noise means. 

“At least remove your uniform,” Sam sighs. He watches Bucky wave a vague hand, then glances over quick enough to see a similar conversation between Steve and Tony.

He gives Tony a weak smile,  _ White boys _ .

Although, Clint always heads straight to the showers. And Peter swings by Harley’s room first, but Sam has it on good authority that Peter definitely showers  _ before _ he and Harley sleep.

Unconfirmed, but Sam’s okay with that.

“Wings,” Tony barks. “You gettin’ out or stayin’ the night in here?”

Sam shrugs, then he unbuckles his straps and groans as he stands and  _ everything _ pops.

Tony nods at him, then leaves to wrangle Steve into a shower before they hit the sheets. Good luck.

-

The sky should be dark. Should be so dark Sam can’t see his own hand. 

Instead, there’s a brilliant orange glow, miles out on the horizon. Bright enough to see the blood between his knuckles, a dark, sticky stain. Bright enough to make the orange of his cigar look dim.

He inhales, all heat and clove and ash, and listens to the sirens he can barely hear this far out. 

Mission wasn’t a  _ failure _ per say, doom bots destroyed. Enemy sent slithering back to the caves.

But the orange glow and the faint ambulance wails settle sick inside of him.

He can still feel the blood pouring off the kid.

Wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t nobody’s fault. And his mama would beat him over the brows if she knew he was hanging off the edge of the helipad mopin’.

“Ain’t mopin’ Ma, just,” Sam sighs. Inhales more clove and heat and ash. “Just thinking.”

If he’d been a little bigger, if Bucky’d been a little faster.

Hell, if Tony had been a little more accurate or Steve a little less enthusiastic or even Clint a little closer.

_ If, if, if, a little more… _

Kid’ll survive, more’n likely. Long recovery and probably out a spleen, but alive. More alive than if they hadn’t been there. Still. These are the missions that Sam wonders about. Wonders if what they do is really worth it. Really good. Are they helping?  _ Heroes? _

Or just a bunch of narcissists in spandex ruffling their own feathers.

-

The shadow falls over him as the lights in the distance fade out into the morning glow; long after he’d put his cigar away. 

Bucky always has had a way of making him feel small. Not tiny, not fragile. Just… small.

Cared for, maybe.

_ Protected _ , he thinks as Bucky’s arms wrap around him. 

“C’mon to bed, darlin’,” Bucky groans. “Cold without you.”

“Soon,” Sam assures him. He wrinkles his nose. “Thought I told you to strip.”

Bucky makes a noise again, kisses the back of Sam’s neck. “Couch. Knew you’d be a while.  _ Bed _ .” Bucky orders. 

“In a minute,” Sam snaps back. 

Bucky sighs, and he stands up, tugging Sam with him. 

Sam takes back every thought he’d had previously because  _ fuck super soldiers  _ and their need to manhandle. 

“Fuck off Barnes!” Sam growls. 

Bucky pauses a moment, arms still tight around Sam. Then he stands then the rest of the way up and kicks at Sam’s legs with his socked foot. He drags Sam inside, and finds the first couch he can find. 

“No,” is all he says. He lays down, yanking Sam with him. Bucky fends a few more seconds wrestling Sam how he wants him. 

They end up curled on the couch, Sam smooshed between Bucky and the cousins. Bucky is a warm, and somewhat rank, weight across him, arms and legs caging him in. Super soldier “snuggling.”

Sam refuses to think of the weight as soothing. 

“Bucky,” he snarls. 

Bucky just squeezes him tighter. “Why do you do this?”

That makes Sam pause. “Do what?”

“Save someone,” Bucky says with a jaw cracking yawn, “Then beat the shit outta yourself over it.”

Sam thinks about the question for a while. Long enough that his eyes droop shut and his heart rate finally, finally slows. 

-

They’re on the couch later, afternoon sun hidden behind FRIDAY’s sun shields. Bucky is finally,  _ blessedly  _ showered when Sam answers him. 

His voice is quiet, small. “Sometimes, when we leave, I don’t think what we did was  _ saving. _ ”

“What was it then?” Bucky asks, like the conversation wasn’t started 12 hours ago.

“Dunno. Extending the suffering?” Sam asks annoyed. 

Bucky gets quiet. So quiet Sam shifts a little in his arms to see if it’s still Bucky, or if he’s somehow woken Winter. 

Bucky’s not looking at him. Instead he is staring at the wall. Thinking, maybe. Ignoring Sam, probably. 

Sam doesn’t care, he curls into Bucky and pouts. 

He can feel Bucky’s fingers scratching at his neck, feel his heart in his ear and Bucky’s chest move with his breaths. 

“You’re brave, Sam, yeah?” Bucky asks suddenly. 

“Hmm?” 

“You got courage? Right? That’s why you do it. The hero thing. ‘Cause you’re brave, and you care, and you’re fierce. ‘Cause you love this dumb rock and it’s dumb people so much you fuckin’ jump off a damn building t’ swoop some idiot kid outta the way of a chunk of concrete fallin’ so fast even the  _ super soldiers _ are afraid of it.”

“Yeah, but the kid,” Sam begins. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Kid is fine, Sam. More fine than he’d have been if the building had done more than catch him in the gut.”

“I could’ve been  _ faster, _ ” Sam argues. 

“Sky coulda gone purple and the bots coulda been flowers,” Bucky deadpans. 

“You did what you were capable of, and the kid has a future. So stop beating yourself up every time we leave somewhere.” Bucky pauses and he gets a look on his face like he’s afraid of his own next words. “Or stop being Falcon.”

Sam starts to make an afronted noise but Bucky cuts him off with his metal hand. 

“Not saying don’t feel bad when someone’s down, but I’m saying if you can’t cope, if you aren’t brave enough to deal with the accidents? Heroing ain’t for you.”

“So how do you suggest I deal with it?” Sam demands. 

Bucky kisses his cheek again, sleepy and tired. “Smoke your cigar, feel bad for a minute. Then come bully me into a shower and cuddle with me.”

Sam thinks on it for a moment. “How do you deal with it?”

Bucky shrugs, an always movement in their position. When he speaks, his voice is small, timid. “Wait for you, hold you, remind myself you’re here and alive. Then I sleep, you’re heartbeat the tempo of my dreams.”


End file.
